Those Bygone Dog-Star Days - Chapter 8 of 37
~ Chapter 8 ~
Nothing.
I took a long gulp from my water bottle that I had just refilled and looked onto the street below me. Pallid, orange light from the streetlamps below hung in ambience. Cars passed by below me, slow. I perked my ears again, listening.
Nothing.
There were no sirens tonight. No car horns. Occasionally wisps of small-chat rose up from the sidewalks as shades walked on by, shortly illuminated by the streetlamps before returning to their previous, murky form.
I had awoken a little before two a.m. I was sure someone was talking somewhere; a conversation was being had within earshot. As my mind cleared, my body got up from the bed and autonomously checked the television. It was off. So was the radio. The walls of my apartment were thick enough to keep out noise from my neighbors (not that they were loud people anyways) and nobody was in the hallway.
Back in my room and through my window, I saw below me a couple of shapes engrossed in some sort of midnight tête-à-tête. I could not hear what they were saying, only see, briefly, occasional hand gestures. The night still had a ways to go and it was warm. Still in my blue boxers, I filled up my water bottle and headed to the balcony. There wasn't a change of temperature, at least anything noticeable, when I slid the sliding glass door open. The street noise became clearer and so did the street smells. Underneath my bedroom window, the couple had quieted down even more to barely a whisper in my ear.
I lit up a cigarette and watched them walk away into the city silence.
I took another long gulp.
By the time I puffed my last drag on my cancer-stick, my water bottle had started to sweat some. Using it as a compress, I threw the cigarette butt into my can and went back inside, remembering to draw the blinds this time.
As comfortable as my couch is most of the time, it has a nasty habit of becoming the most uncomfortable piece of furniture I own whenever I needed it the most. I lied down on the beast trying to get comfortable. I wouldn't fall asleep on this thing, no way, but I just wanted to rest a bit, shut my eyes. In the air was a faint musty smell of dirty dishes, cigarette smoke, and the chicken I had for dinner now safely either traveling my intestines becoming not-chicken or packed away on the second shelf of my fridge. My stomach gurgled, no doubt pushing the rest of the chicken on its three-day tour of my insides.
By that time it would be ten days since I last saw Cade, since I invited him over one night after drinking and almost had to send him to the hospital. After his cold bath nothing else happened that night. I warmed him up and we cuddled and slept until the sun rose. I had made a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage before he had to go. Lying on the couch I could still taste it. He parted with a quick kiss and a promise to call me later on that night, after work and everything.
There was nothing.
I was antsy to get out of work that afternoon, more so than I usually am. By habit and now routine I headed to Infinitá with my phone on every single alarm function I could find on it. I triple-checked the battery to make sure it was full and I quadruple-checked to make sure it was actually on and that I didn't accidentally dial a number while it was being jostled around in my pocket. Over the next few days Tiffany would bring my afternoon quick-snack and keep me company while she could. I waited each day slowly becoming more anxious for Cade to walk through the door but he never showed up. Each day after leaving Infinitá, I would hop onto my instant messengers waiting with phone in hand for Cade to come online. I had since stopped leaving voice messages on his cell.
Each day for the past seven days was the same and each day I heard exactly the same thing from him. Nothing.
Is he avoiding me? I thought, brokenhearted. I never meant to hurt him. I hope he doesn't think I'm some crazy sicko now. If he said he was going to call, he really should've called. If he didn't want to see me anymore, he could've said something besides being such an asshole and leaving like that.
I obsessed and I knew it, I couldn't help it. Part of me said to move on already, that he'd found some other cock to tease. But most of me thought that impossible and that he was probably lying in a ditch somewhere dead, that he had gotten mixed up in the wrong crowd. He was probably at the bottom of the river right now.
I started watching the evening news after that.
"You're crazy, you know that?" I said to the darkness about myself as I stretched on the sofa. I looked at the time, almost half past two in the morning. A Saturday so I could probably sleep in, but who knew how much sleep I'd actually get. Not much these days.
Getting up reluctantly and swaying with exhaustion towards my bedroom door, I took one final glance around my room to see if anything was on. Nope.
"And now you're hearing voices," I said sardonically as I dropped myself onto my bed.
Promptly, I passed out.